


Me for You

by claro



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ALL THE SEXY, HIV, Illness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:53:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claro/pseuds/claro
Summary: Mycroft has been holding back - or a reason.





	1. Chapter 1

Five years. That's how long it had taken him to convince Mycroft Holmes to go to dinner with him.

Seven months. That's how long they had been 'doing dinner' together.

Five years and seven months. That's how long Gregory Lestrade had been waiting to sleep with the politician.

He hadn't been shy about it either. Every date had ended with an invitation, a kiss that strayed too far, hands that roamed and a quiet pleading to not let the night end there.

Greg had never wanted someone as much as he wanted Mycroft. What started as a passing attraction had become an obsession.

'Myc?'

'Hmm?'

'Dinner?' Greg shrugged, 'What do you want?'

'I don't mind.'

'Okay. Well, you order and I'll eat it.'

'Is that what you say to all the boys?'

'Mycroft!' Greg laughed and walked to the bathroom.

And stopped.

#

'What's this?'

Mycroft looked up from the menu he had in his hand, 'Hmm? Oh. It's-'

'It's Emtricitabine. I'm a police officer, Myc. I know what it is.'

Greg threw the box down on the table and waited for Mycroft to speak. But it became clear he wasn't going to say anything.. Greg sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

'How long have had HIV?'


	2. Chapter 2

'I was twenty two.' Mycroft didn't look at Greg as he spoke, 'He was...older.'

'Why didn't you say?'

'What would you like me to say?'

'Mycroft-'

'Gregory-'

The silence echoed.

'Does Sherlock know?'

'Probably.'

'Is this why-?'

'Yes.'

'Okay.'

'Okay?'

'What do you want me to say?'


	3. Chapter 3

One mistake.

That was all it took. One careless night that resulted in a lifetime sentence. 

One night, one person that stole everything.

'It was once.'

Greg looked up at Mycroft, barely able to keep from crying.

'So that's why you-'

'Yes.'

Greg sat down and ran his hands through his hair.

'I thought you....I thought you didn't want me'

'I did...I do. But I can't.'

'Mycroft-'

'Don't. Don't say it's okay because it's not.'

'Do you want me?'

Mycroft Holmes, stunned into silence for one of the few times in his life. Then he blinked and nodded, 'Yes.'

'Then stop pushing me away.'

'But-'

'We'll work it out.'

'Gregory-'

Greg stepped forward and kissed him. Hard.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been over twenty years since a hand other than his own had touched him. Twenty years since anyone had undressed him.

Greg slid Mycroft's shirt off his shoulders and leaned in kiss the exposed skin of his neck.

'I knew you'd have freckles.'

He placed a string of small kisses across Mycroft's shoulders and then stopped, resting his forehead in the crook of Mycroft's neck.

'Gregory-'

'I won't share you.'

Mycroft gently pushed Greg away, forcing the policeman to look at him.

'I can't, Myc. I won't. So-'

'So.'

'Don't make fun of me.'

'I wasn't.'

'I mean it. I've waited years to be allowed to hold you...I need to know that I'm the only one who gets to do that.'

'Do you really think there is a stampede of people who want to see me naked?'

Greg's expression changed slightly then and he took a long time to answer. So long that Mycroft was certain he'd changed his mind and just as he was reaching for his discarded shit Greg spoke again.

'You have no idea, do you?'

'Pardon?'

'You don't even know how fucking  _gorgeous_ you are. Do you even notice the way people look at you when we're out? Christ...the...fantasies I have about your bloody legs. Or the things I've done to myself while imagining bending you over that desk of yours...'

'Gregory,' Mycroft began, but Greg shook his head.

'Do you know what I really want to do right now?' Greg leaned in close to him, breathing softly against his neck, 'I want to take you to bed.'

'I can't-'

'And I want to be allowed to hold you while you sleep.'

'But-'

'And we'll work the rest of it out. But not tonight. Tonight I just want, I  _need_ to be allowed to be with you. I want to be allowed to kiss you, to try and count all those freckles, to sleep beside you with nothing between us. But before that I need to know that you'll still be here in the morning. That there isn't anyone else. That-'

'It's only you.'

Greg made to pull back to look at Mycroft, but the politician didn't let him. Instead he leaned in and kissed him softly.

'You,' he repeated, 'If you still want me.'

Greg's hand came up to stroke Mycroft's face.

'I've never wanted anything as much,' he whispered.

'But-'

'It doesn't change anything, Myc. I still love you as much as I did this morning.'

A soon as he said it Greg backed off again, eyes wide and avoiding looking at Mycroft.

'You...love...me?'

Greg nodded.

'But...why?'

'Because I can't not.'

The silence lasted a moment too long and Mycroft thought that Greg had changed his mind. He was still refusing to look at the politician. But then a hand was in his.

'Can I take you to bed?'

The words were soft and uncertain, and took Mycroft by surprise with their tenderness. He nodded.

'Yes.'

'Every night?'

'Yes.'

'And only me...for the rest of...just me?'

Greg finally looked at Mycroft then and it was suddenly clear how his feelings for Mycroft were tearing him apart.

Mycroft nodded, 'Only you.'

 


	5. Chapter 5

Mycroft woke to the soft sounds of traffic outside, but he kept his eyes closed wanting to savour the feeling of Greg's arm around him, his naked body pressed close to Mycroft's own.

They hadn't had sex. Mycroft hadn't really had time to process the possibility. He was still overwhelmed that there was someone who wanted to be close to him, who knew the truth and wanted him any way. Who seemed to sense that Mycroft was awake and kissed his shoulder.

'Go back to sleep, Myc. It's too early.'

'I don't want to sleep.'

'Fine. Kiss me instead.'

When Mycroft didn't immediately move to fulfil Greg's demands, the policeman sat up, swinging one leg easily over Mycroft's hips before leaning down and kissing him.

'You were taking too long,' he said, his hands roaming over Mycroft's chest.

Mycroft was suddenly very aware that they were both naked. He hadn't been naked with anyone since his early twenties. Greg stopped, pulling back slightly to look down at Mycroft.

'Can I touch you?'

Mycroft opened his mouth to protest, but Greg took the chance to kiss him again, moaning deeply when Mycroft's tongue slid against his, and then, without warning, his hand closed around Mycroft's shaft.

'Gregory we shouldn't-'

'We bloody should!' Greg replied before biting Mycroft's shoulder, 'You've made me wait for years. Please don't ask me not to now.'

'Gregory, you need to know the risks before-'

'I'm a fifty year old gay policeman. Trust me, I know the risks.'

'Gregory-'

'Mycroft, I swear to god if you don't touch me right now I might die of frustration.'

'You could die anyway?'

There was silence in the room and Greg rolled off Mycroft to stare at the ceiling.

'I'm being really selfish, aren't I?'

'I don't think you've thought it through.'

'I've waited years to get you naked in my bed.'

'I don't want you to make a mistake.'

'I want you inside me.'

'And this is exactly why you need to think this through.'

'We can be careful, Myc.'

'Accidents still happen.'

'It's not a death sentence!'

'It is.'

'Are you planning on breaking up with me?'

Mycroft shook his head.

'Then don't keep pushing me away.'

'But what-'

'We'll deal with it.'

'You're being incredibly naive,' Mycroft made to roll out of bed, but he was stopped by Greg's hand on his wrist.

'I'm sorry,' Greg said, pressing a kiss to Mycroft's shoulder, and then he did something Mycroft wasn't expecting. He took Mycroft's hand and placed it on Mycroft's groin, his eyes darkening with lust.

'Will you let me watch you?'

Mycroft swallowed, 'Is there any way I can stop you?'

Greg's only response was to kiss him again, and it was then that Mycroft realised Greg was stroking himself under the sheets. Feeling suddenly bolder he pulled the sheet back so he could watch Greg.

'Show me what you like,' Greg's voice was barely audible, but he was watching Mycroft with an intensity that excited the other man in a way he hadn't felt in years, and for the first time in twenty years he stopped worrying about sex, because nothing else seemed to matter than the way Greg was looking at him.

For the first time he allowed himself to think that maybe they could make it work.


	6. Chapter 6

Greg was not surprised when he woke up alone, but as the smell of coffee filtered through the house and he knew that Mycroft was still there. He smiled as the politican came into the bedroom, a cup in each hand.

'Sex and coffee? It has been a good weekend.' Greg relieved Mycroft of one of the cups, smiling at the slight blush across Mycroft's cheeks.

'I'm afraid I've been called into work early.'

Greg sipped the warm liquid which was so much better than anything he ever had at his own flat.

'Who's making your life difficult today?'

'Anthea. And Syria. But primarily Anthea.' Mycroft smiled slightly at Greg's laugh, but he wasn't meeting his eye and Greg sat up straighter.

'Are you okay?'

Mycroft blinked several times before speaking, '...yes. I believe so.'

'You aren't going to change your mind and delete my number?' Greg was only half joking when he spoke, and was taken aback by the rush of relief when Mycroft shook his head.

'Good. Now kiss me again.'

#

Greg's good mood lasted until he got to his office and found John trying to keep Sherlock under control.

'Where were you last night?' Sherlock demanded before Greg had even managed to close the door.

'I don't think that's any of your business,' Greg dumped his bag on the desk and shrugged his coat off.

'You were with Mycroft again, weren't you?'

'That's what happens when two people are dating Sherlock, they tend to spend time together.'

'There's hardly much point when he can't-'

'Shut up!' Greg shouted over him, finger pointing into Sherlock's surprised face, 'Not another word out of your mouth. I mean it.'

John looked from one man to the other in confusion, made worse when realisation spread over Sherlock's face.

'You didn't?'

'Sherlock I warned you!'

'You idiot!' Sherlock shouted, throwing his hands in the air, 'You've ruined everything.'

'I don't know what's going on,' John said carefully, 'But don't you think you are being a bit dramatic, Sherlock?'

'No. No I don't!' and Sherlock turned to leave, his coat fanning out behind him as he stalked through the office.

John and Greg stood in silence for a while until John finally turned to his friend, 'So...you and Mycroft then?'

'Don't-' Greg warned.

Pursing his lips John looked at the trail of destruction Sherlock had left in his wake, 'So how many pints is it going to take for you to explain what he's so worked up about?'

'I don't think there's enough beer in England.' 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay folks - I know I've fallen behind with pretty much all my current fics right now, but it's only because I've been so busy on set these last few weeks that I haven't had a chance to type up any of my handwritten notes - thankfully I've had this weekend free to drink wine and catch up with our boys. Hope you enjoy. C

Greg sighed and stretched before scrubbing at his eye with his fists. It had been a long day and he had a headache from staring at the screen of his laptop for the last four hours since he got home. He hadn't dared to do any research at work incase it flagged in the system and he would have to answer questions. Not that it would make a difference or impact his job, but his private life was exactly that, and since half of the department knew he was dating Serlock's brother it wouldn't take too long for someone to put the pieces together and no one gossips like a police officer. No. He would not subject Mycroft to that.

So he'd had to wait until he was at home and on his own computer before he was able to search for answers to any of his questions. Not that he had any new questions, nothing he hadn't already thought about over the years.

He didn't really know what he was looking for. Something. Just something. Something he hadn't known before, something new, something that would take all the worry away. 

And that's what it was. A worry. He refused to think of it as a problem. A problem was a negative thing, and try as he might he couldn't think of anything associated with Mycroft as being negative. Not even Sherlock, although that opinion was tested at times.

After four hour he didn't know anything he hadn't already known the day before.

Well, perhaps one thing. He knew for certain how Mycroft felt about him. He knew what Mycroft looked like under those immaculate suits he wore like armour, and how he looked flushed and sleepy after orgasm – both images had been running on a loop through his mind all day making it very hard to focus on anything else. He knew how it felt to fall asleep, warm and content, wrapped around the other man. 

And he knew he wanted it all, every day, for the rest of his life.

What he didn't know was exactly how they were going to make that happen.


	8. Chapter 8

'Do you know why my marriage ended?'

Mycroft leaned back in his chair, unsure how to respond to Gregory's question.

'Because your wife was sleeping with a PE teacher.'

'No.' Greg shook his head and dropped into the seat opposite Mycroft, 'Do you want to know the moment my marriage ended?'

Mycroft was filled with a sudden sense of dread, as if there was no correct answer. But Gregory didn't wait for him to speak.

'It was the day I arrested Sherlock,' he said, 'The first time I had to call you. You came to collect him and that was it. That was the first time I laid eyes on you and I knew that was it. It was you. Just you.' Gregory ran his hand through his hair, 'And she knew it too. Right then we both knew it was over. She just gave us the excuse to get out of it.'

Silence filled the dark room that Mycroft worked in until Gregory sighed and stood up again.

'Thai for dinner?'

Mycroft looked up at the man now standing in the doorway and nodded.

'Thai would be nice.'

'Okay.'

'And Gregory....I love you too.'


	9. Chapter 9

'Why were you so angry with Greg?'

'Who?'

John rolled his eyes, 'Lestrade. Why were you so angry when you found out he's been seeing Mycroft.'

Sherlock didn't respond, keeping his attention focused on his microscope.

'Sherlock?'

'John.'

'I asked you a question.'

'And I'm ignoring it.'

John sighed and stood up, 'Fine. Tea?'

Sherlock didn't respond to that either.

#

'Why him?' Sherlock asked.

Lestrade looked up from his paperwork and sighed.

'This is not a good time, Sherlock.'

'Why do you want him?'

'I-'

'He's not...you can't....why would you...?'

The DI took sympathy on the clearly distraught man in his office and stood up to close the door.

'What's your real question, Sherlock?'

'You know that he's-'

'Yes.'

Sherlock looked away for a second and then turned his penetrating stare on the DI.

'So why him?'

'Sherlock....'

'He can't even...why him?'

The silence lasted too long, and when Sherlock spoke again it was almost a whisper, but Lestrade heard is as clear as if it had been shouted in his ear.

'Why not me?'

And that was the question. Sherlock, once he'd overcome his issues, had been everything anyone would want. Intelligent, sexy as hell, admittedly with a particular sense of humour and an inability to do any form of housework. And the proposition had been there, more than once over the years. But...

Then there was Mycroft. 

Greg smiled sadly despite himself and the situation.

'I love him.'

Sherlock slammed the door on his way out.


	10. Chapter 10

'What did your parents say when they found out?' Greg asked over lunch.

Mycroft didn't reply, keeping his attention on his plate.

'Mycroft?'

Still the politician pretended he hadn't heard. Greg sighed.

'They do know, don't they?' he pressed.

At this Mycroft lifted his head and fixed Greg with a sort of helpless look.

'Oh Christ, Mycroft!' he breathed softly.

'It's not exactly a conversation one has with one's parents.'

And Greg could understand that. He couldn't imagine having that conversation with his own parents, and having met Mycroft's mother he knew exactly why Mycroft hadn't shared that particular piece of news.

'Sherlock knows,' he said instead.

'Yes,' Mycroft pulled a face as he speared a piece of tomato with his fork, 'Sherlock has a tendency to  _know_ things.'

They ate in silence. Well, Mycroft mostly pushed his food around his plate and Greg mostly watched him do it, any previous appetite gone.

'He's not happy about this...about us.'

'I didn't expect him to be.'

And once again Greg caught a glimpse of how deep and complex the relationship between the brothers was, and he knew that he would never fully understand or appreciate it. The soft and slightly pained expression on Mycroft's face when talking about Sherlock was breaking Greg's heart.

'And you?' he asked, 'Are you happy with this?'

Mycroft lifted his eyes from his plate again and smiled softly at Greg, the slightest nod accompanying it.

'Yes, I am.'


	11. Chapter 11

Mycroft could just make out Gregory's profile in the dark of the bedroom as he slept exactly where he had slept every night for the last month. His presence was so familiar that Mycroft could barely remember a time when it wasn't there.

There was a small shift and then the policeman was pulling Mycroft closer, his nose buried in the hair behind his ear as he sought out Mycroft's scent. Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the moment.

#

There were few things about Mycroft that were predictable. That he would be immaculate at all times was a given. But he also made terrible coffee despite having access to the best coffee machine money could buy and coffee that cost a thousand quid a bag. Over the years it hadn't improved either. Used to the gut rotting coffee at the yard, Greg had been impressed with the range Mycroft had in his cupboards.

'May I recommend-'

'I'm not drinking anything that's come out of a cat's arsehole.' This statement was very quickly replaced with 'I'm not drinking anything you have made.' And Mycroft would buy the coffee and Greg would make it with only minimal bickering between them.

Things had changed slightly in the last few weeks. They still argued over the coffee, but there were fewer clothes involved.


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock didn't move except for his eyes which flicked briefly to the bag that Lestrade had just thrown on the table beside the microscope.

'Got a job for you,' the policeman said.

'Not interested.'

'Call it a personal favour.'

'And why would I do you a favour?'

'Because you still want access to crime scenes?'

There was a pause and then Sherlock spoke again, his attention still obstinately fixed on his microscope although no one in the room was fooled.

'I don't have time for-'

'What do you mean?' John came through from the kitchen with a tray of tea cups, 'You've been complaining about being bored for weeks.'

'I have not.'

'Please, Sherlock,' Lestrade tried appealing to whatever better nature Sherlock might possess.

'No.'

'Sherlock I swear to god if you don't take whatever case Greg is offering you then I will gag you and tie you to the radiator in C until you do!' John growled.

Greg opened his mouth to make a joke about John's sex life, but the look on the doctor's face told him it was not the right time to be flippant. There was a slight tension in the air in 221B which usually reared it's head when Sherlock had managed to destroy yet another kitchen appliance. The last time he had set fire to the microwave the atmosphere had lasted over a week.

For a moment Sherlock met John's hard stare, and then he turned his head towards Greg.

'Fine. Tell me. And don't make it boring.'

Greg reached out and upended the bag onto the table. Behind him John choked on his tea, but Sherlock just turned his pale eyes back to Greg.

'Prophylactics?'

Aware that he was starting to blush, Greg nodded. Sherlock seemed oblivious to Greg's discomfort, but in truth Greg would have been happier if John hadn't been around to witness this particular insight into his sex life. While Sherlock was well aware of the full situation, Greg doubted that John did, and he'd prefer to keep it that way. It was Mycroft's business and- no. It was his and Mycroft's business now.

Sherlock twisted his lip in disgust as if he could read Greg's mind and then turned his attention back to the variety of boxes on his desk.

'Is there any reason you need so many condoms, Greg?' John was obviously interested and doing his best to keep his question casual.

'Obviously,' Sherlock rolled his eyes, 'Why else would he arrive at our flat with so many of them.'

'I meant, is it for a case or are you...you seeing someone?'

'I-' Greg began, not really sure he was ready to answer that question.

'Well he didn't bring them for me,' Sherlock cut across him.

Greg didn't know what made him feel more uncomfortable, the comment on his own sex life, the double meaning in Sherlock's words, the frown on John's face or the sudden increase in tension between the consulting detective and the doctor.

'What exactly do you need Sherlock to do with them?' John asked, coughing slightly to cover his embarrassment at being faced with so many condoms, which was slightly absurd given he was a medical professional.

'Yes, Lestrade,' Sherlock turned his most innocent expression on the policeman, 'What would you like me to do with them?'

Greg narrowed his eyes and fought to unclench his jaw, 'I want you to test them.'

Sherlock raised one eyebrow and Greg instantly regretted his word choice. He regretted it even more when Sherlock spoke.

'And how exactly do you suggest I do that?' this time even John caught the fact that Sherlock and Greg were having a completely different conversation that John wasn't part of.

'I really don't care,' Greg responded, 'I just need to know which is-'

'The most pleasurable?' Sherlock seemed to be enjoying making Greg uncomfortable.

'Reliable,' Greg finished tightly.

Sherlock's smirk vanished and he narrowed his eyes. But he refrained from saying anything else. Greg took that as his cue to leave before things could get any more awkward. He got halfway to the door before Sherlock spoke again.

'What makes you think I'll tell the truth?'

'Because it's science,' Greg said, looking over his shoulder, 'That's important to you.'

He turned to go and was immediately hit on the shoulder by a hurled box. When he turned around Sherlock was rifling through the selection again.

'Oi!' John shouted at his flatmate.

'You can eliminate those ones for a start,' Sherlock said, ignoring John. It was close enough to a truce for now.


	13. Chapter 13

Mycroft tapped the tip of his umbrella against his foot as he surveyed the kitchen in Baker Street, in which Sherlock had apparently suspended a dozen condoms filled with water until they were the size of a football.

'I like what you've done with the place.'

'Piss off, Mycroft.' Sherlock snarled as he polished his violin bow, then he narrowed his eyes as he studied his brother, 'You look ill.'

Mycroft rolled his eyes, 'Thank you for that analysis, brother dearest.'

He didn't tell Sherlock that he had an appointment with his doctor later that day to discuss his recent decline in health.

'And you're gaining weight,' Sherlock smirked, 'Aren't you supposed to be wasting away?'

That was true, and in no small part due to Gregory's insistence on eating properly and looking after himself more. Not that he was about to tell Sherlock that either.

'Are you quite finished?'

'Why are you here, Mycroft?'

'Can't I visit my own brother without there being an ulterior motive?'

'No.'

Mycroft sighed, 'I just wanted to check on you. Gregory mentioned you had been-'

'Who?'

'Gregory,' Mycroft repeated pointedly.

'Oh, your plaything,' Sherlock spat, and then turned cold eyes upwards to Mycroft, 'And how much do you have to pay him?'

It was not the first time that Mycroft had heard similar comments. Several of his own staff and more than one of Gregory's officers had made whispered comments when they thought Mycroft was out of earshot, with the general concensus being that Gregory could do far better than Mycroft. Over the years Mycroft had been the subject of many cruel comments and observations, but this one was different because in his heart he believed it too.

'I assure you, Sherlock, that I am not keeping Gregory against his will.'

Anger flashed in Sherlock's eyes then, 'Then perhaps he really is as idiotic as I thought. Why else would he put up with your bloated body and irritating voice?'

And try as Sherlock might to cover the flash of hurt, he could never hide it from Mycroft.

'I am not prepared to have this discussion again, Sherlock,' Mycroft warned, 'And I fail to see why you care so much about my relationship with Gregory. You have John now.'

There was barely a flicker in Sherlock's expression, but his eyes dulled and his jaw tightened just a fraction that wouldn't be noticeable to anyone who didn't know Sherlock as well as Mycroft did. Mycroft felt his heart clench for his brother's pain and his own stupidity. He had just assumed that.... He inclined his head.

'I'm sorry.'

Sherlock nodded once and turned his attention back to his violin bow.


	14. Chapter 14

Greg eyed the box critically, turning it over in his hands as Sherlock huffed impatiently.

'You're sure?'

'Of course I'm sure. I repeated the tests in cycles of ten with a set of rotating variables in each cycle that -'

'But these are the safest?'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at being interrupted, 'No contraception is completely safe or reliable, but these scored marginally higher in the majority of my tests.'

Greg nodded, 'Not a brand stocked everywhere though, sex shops mostly. Not something you can get in a vending machine in the pub loos.'

'Well unless you are planning on having sex with my brother in a pub bathroom then it's of no relevance whether you can get them there or not.' Sherlock said in his most haughty voice, but he was no longer looking at Greg and instead had dropped his gaze back to his notes, gathering them up with more fuss than normal.

Greg bit his lip to stop himself saying something that would only make things worse. He'd had a feeling for a while that Sherlock thought of him in a different way than he thought about most people, and as flattering as that had been, as tempting, and he had been tempted, suddenly there had been Mycroft and he hadn't been able to look at anyone else.

'I'm sorry, Sherlock.'

'You're apologies are of no consequence to me.'

'I...'

But Sherlock was already on his way out the door. He stopped suddenly, his back still to Lestrade.

'He will hurt you.'

'Sherlock....'

'He doesn't know how not to.'

And before Greg could say anything else, Sherlock was gone, leaving the door open behind him as he swept across the open office, coat billowing behind him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this one. x

Greg didn't think he would ever get used to the flash of pleasure that passed briefly across Mycroft's face when he spotted Greg. The politician was in the process of pouring himself a scotch.

'Good evening,' Mycroft smilled and tilted the decanter towards Greg who nodded.

'Good evening yourself,' he replied as Mycroft poured a second glass, and then, as Mycroft handed it to him, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Mycroft's lips, which small gesture of affection seemed to surprise and please Mycroft if the slight reddening of his cheeks was anything to go by.

'I trust your day was well?'

Greg sipped his scotch and shrugged, 'No one died and none of my officers threatened to murder Sherlock, so yeah, it was alright. You?'

'Nothing noteworthy.'

'How did your doctor's appointment go?'

Mycroft frowned as if annoyed Greg knew about that, but before he could say anything Greg spoke again.

'Police detective, remember?' he smiled, and then when Mycroft didn't smile back, he said in a serious voice, feeling sad for a reason he couldn't quite identify, 'If you don't want me to know things, don't stick your appointment card to the fridge.'

'Apologies, Gregory. I assumed you-'

'You thought I'd been snooping in your stuff?'

Mycroft didn't respond but the deepening of his colour was answer enough and made Greg smile again.

'That would be the OTHER type of detective we know.'

At this Mycroft finally smiled back and the slight tension was gone.

'It was...satisfactory.'

'Well, that's...I have no idea what that is actually.'

'A minor respiratory infection, should pass in a few days.'

'For a cold it really knocked the sails out of you there.'

Mycroft pressed his lips together and looked down at his glass.

'As it will.'

There was a gravity to his words that made Greg pause.

'Mycroft-'

He was silenced by Mycroft lifting his head and staring back at him, his head tilted back slightly, chin jutting defiantly. 

'Shall we have dinner?'

'Mycroft!' Greg tried again, and then, softer, 'Look, I get it. I know that-'

'Yes. Fine. Now, dinner?'

'For fuck sake, Mycroft, will you let me finish?'

Mycroft opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but then he closed it again and inclined his head slightly, signaling to Greg that he could speak without interuption.

'Christ, Myc, you are really hard work sometimes,' Greg said, shaking his head, but there was no annoyance in his tone, just frustrated affection, 'I just worry about you. I KNOW that even a cold is going to make you more sick than me because your immune system is totally fucked.'

'Eloquently put, as always,' Mycroft rolled his eyes.

'Fuck off. I'm trying to tell you that I worry about. I don't like seeing you ill.'

'And yet you wish to form a romantic relationship with someone who has HIV?'

Greg glared at him, 'Are you being deliberately dickish?'

'It's a statement of fact, Gregory.' Mycroft sighed and turned to top up his glass, 'I don't think you have fully considered the reality of -'

He was silenced by the sound of Greg's glass being slammed down on the sideboard and a second later Greg's hands were on his shoulder, turning him roughly around and forcing him to look at the policemen.

'I have considered everything. We're not having this conversation again, Myc.'

Mycroft sighed, 'You were so worried about a...a cold. You've found the last week difficult and concerning, how could you possibly cope with months, or years of illness after illness? Bad spells that can last for weeks at a time. Endless medications, hospitalisations and an eventual painful and undignified death. Without being dramatic, that is the reality of the situation, Gregory.'

'Myc-'

'I have had years to grow accustomed to my circumstances and to ensure it does not impact unduly on anyone else. You're not stupid, you know the reality. So tell me, Gregory,' Mycroft tried hard to sneer, but it was half hearted, 'Do you really think you would be able to cope with that?'

'Yes!' Greg shouted, his grip on Mycroft's arms tightening. And then just as suddenly as his anger flared it left, and his grip lessened slightly, but he held Mycroft's gaze and when he spoke again his voice was softer, almost a whisper as he fought to get his words out, his own emotion overwhelming him, 'Yes. Yes, Myc, I'll...cope.' He took a deep breath, 'I'll cope because I have to. Because if I can't cope then the only other option is not having you.'

Greg closed his eyes and dropped his head until his forehead was pressed against Mycroft's.

'And that's not an option at all.'


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this is it folks, the end. Thank you to everyone who read and commented. I love you all. C x

Mycroft did indeed get sick. Sometimes days, sometimes weeks until eventually it became stays in hospital and reduced working hours. It was a struggle to keep his weight up and over time he grew tired more easily.

But through it all he had Gregory Lestrade by his side, a comforting hand on the small of his back, a warm presence beside him in bed each night.

Gregory brought things to Mycroft's life that he could never have anticipated. He brought mess and chaos and dirty socks on the floor and too much take away and some very creative sex. He also brought kindness and laughter and shouting matches at 2am that Mycroft would never admit to anyone he secretly enjoyed. They could be arguing about something as stupid as one of them losing the TV remote and Mycroft would be in awe of this man who thought nothing of standing up to him. Even Sherlock didn't argue back, he just whined and threw out insults, but Gregory gave as good as he got. No one had ever argued with Mycroft like that.

For the first time since Mycroft was a child, birthdays and Christmases were celebrated, cautiously at first, but always intimately, and without realising it, that first birthday when Gregory had been so excited to give him his gift, turned into another and another until without noticing it had been ten years together and Gregory still smiled every time Mycroft walked into the room.

He brought a security to Mycroft's life that was as terrifying as it was comforting. He had let Mycroft pace their relationship all the way, never pushing for more than Mycroft was ready to give. The only thing he was overbearing about was Mycroft's health, he never let him miss an appointment or a single pill. At first Mycroft it had annoyed Mycroft, making him feel uncomfortable, certain that Gregory would eventually resent it. But not once had the other man every given an indication that was the case.

Mycroft thought these things as he lay in bed, warm and comfortable, Gregory's arm draped around him, the policeman's breath warm against his neck, and then soft lips pressed a light kiss against his shoulder as Gregory roused himself slowly into wakefulness. Mycroft waited patiently for the moment Gregory's sleep rough voice would murmur his name and a morning greeting. This was Mycroft's favourite time of the day and he savoured every moment of it.

He allowed himself another small smile. He was finally secure enough to believe how Gregory felt about him and to know with unshakable certainty that this was how he was going to wake up every morning for the rest of his life.

Not doing so was not an option at all.


End file.
